


All Dressed Up

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: Cinderella - All Media Types, Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossdressing, Dancing, Fairy Tales, M/M, Princes & Princesses, Revisionist Fairy Tale, Secret Identity, Slash, Yuletide, Yuletide 2010, Yuletide New Year's Resolutions Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the Cinderella fairy tale with a Cinderfella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Dressed Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VerboseWordsmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerboseWordsmith/gifts).



> I know you already got a fairy tale fic, but I was smitten with your prompt before I saw that. I'm sorry that it took me practically all year to write it, but better late than never, right? :D

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Orwend, an industrious young tailor's son, named Naid was living above his father's shop. He was the youngest son, and all of his six brothers had already gone off and done heroic deeds, rescued princesses, and lived happily ever after. But this young boy had learned the tailoring craft and was quite happy to spend his time making clothes.

He made beautiful dresses, in every color of the rainbow, and all the ribbons, stockings, bonnets, and petticoats to match. His father put them into the window of the shop, and soon many fancy ladies were coming to the shop to ask for Naid to make beautiful clothing for them.

But Naid had a secret that he kept from everyone, including his father. Late at night, when the customers were gone and the shop was all closed up, Naid would go into the back room and try on the clothes that he made. First the frilly lace panties, and the pure white lacy bra. Then the stockings, smooth and silky, running up his long legs. Next he put on layers and layers of petticoats, and he would spin and spin until they swirled, laughing giddily.

After those would come the dress, in pink satin, or cream taffeta, or green organza, or turquoise silk. A million combinations of shade and texture, and Naid tried them all. Some nights he would add gloves or a hat, or sometimes he would thread one of the ribbons through his slightly-longer-than-acceptable black hair.

He would spin around and practice his curtsies and dance moves, safe from the prying eyes of the rest of the town.

One week, the shop was flooded with proper young ladies seeking gorgeous ball gowns. It had been announced that the King was throwing a ball the next week for the young unwed prince. Whoever he chose that night would become his wife.

Naid was kept extremely busy as he spent day after day laboring to make the most exquisite ball gowns. One was purple and cream, one pink with shiny ribbons, one a deep red that shifted in the light, and another a pale green with forest trim. There was one in the palest sky blue and a lacy yellow one, and even one of light copper with ruffled sleeves. Naid worked until he dropped every night, with no time for his own pleasures.

As the day of the ball drew nearer, the ladies each appeared, one by one, to claim their dresses. At last, the afternoon before the ball, only one was left. The young lady who had placed the order did not show, and finally Naid gave up on waiting. Exhausted from his long week, he closed the shop early and began to tidy up. As he cleaned, he kept glancing at the remaining ball gown, and the urge to change tugged against his mind.

Finally he gave in and threw his broom aside. He quickly slipped into the cream colored undergarments, and then the layers of new petticoats. The dress came next: fawn colored satin with rust accents and lace. Naid piled his hair on his head with pins and a rust colored ribbon, and, as an added treat, carefully applied some of his small stash of makeup.

Feeling like a princess fit for the ball, Naid continued to clean, spinning the broom around the floor and pretending that he was dancing with the handsome prince. He was so absorbed in what he was doing that he did not even hear the bells on the outer shop door, which he had forgotten to lock, jingle as it opened.

"Oh my, you dance splendidly!" a deep voice interrupted his daydream.

Naid spun to a halt in horror, and discovered a young man his own age standing in the doorway. He opened his mouth, but could force no words out.

"I'm sorry to startle you, my lady," the young man continued. "I know you are closed, but I thought I would try the handle, just in case, and it was unlocked."

"I must have forgotten…" Naid finally managed to squeak out.

The man grinned. "I'm quite glad you did. I came to tell the shop owner that my sister will not be needing her dress tonight; she has come over horridly ill, and our father has insisted that she stay home, rather than risk her being sick all over the prince."

Naid could not help himself; he chuckled at the image. This must be the brother of the young lady whose dress he was wearing. "That would rather ruin her reputation," he admitted.

"Are you headed to the ball now?" the young man asked.

Naid desperately tried to think of a proper response, and finally his eyes lit on the broom still in his hand. "I wish I could, but I must clean the shop."

"Surely your father could give you one night off!" the young man cried. "Did your family not receive an invitation?"

Naid shook his head, feeling the ribbons brush against his cheeks.

"Yes, well I suppose as a commoner…" the man rubbed his chin. "However, you are dressed most beautifully for the occasion. Please do me the great honor to accept my personal invitation."

Naid opened his mouth to refuse, but he was cut off.

"You may not be of the caliber that the prince is seeking, but surely it would not hurt anyone for you to accompany _me_ for the night. After all, those of us without a crown to barter with must find our own dance partners." He grinned brightly and Naid felt his will dissolving. "Please don't force me to dance with my brother."

Another bright laugh was pulled from Naid's lips, and finally he let his secret desires overwhelm his caution. "Well, then, to save you that fate, yes, I shall accompany you to the ball. On one condition..."

"Yes?"

Naid smiled "What is your name?"

His guest chuckled. "Pellon of Massledon. And you, my good lady?"

It took only a second for the name he had often imagined for himself to slip from Naid's lips. "Naidine, good sir."

Pellon strode forward and grasped Naid's hand, kissing it gently. "Then I thank you, most humbly, for accompanying me tonight, Lady Naidine."

Almost before Naid could blink, he was being lead into a waiting carriage, where Pellon's younger brother, Markus, and their cousin, Lady Delia, were waiting. Within moments, it seemed, they were arriving at the palace gates, and then they were standing at the top of a grand staircase while a footman announced, "Lord Pellon of Massledon and Lady Naidine."

Naid felt overwhelmed by the rush of splendor around him. Dashing gentlemen in deeply hued suits and beautiful women in brilliantly colored dresses spun all around him. Enticing aromas rose from the tables of delicacies along the walls, and music and chatter filled the air.

At first Naid stayed to the walls while Pellon greeted his friends, but soon his hand was requested for a dance, and Naid found himself being swung around the floor in the same way he usually swung his broom. It was as though a magical fairy had waved her wand and given him his fondest dream, and Naid couldn't help but fear that if he closed his eyes it would all disappear.

After a few dances, Markus cut in on his brother, and then a whirlwind of gentlemen were leading Naid around the floor. He eventually lost count, until, quite unexpectedly, his current partner was replaced by one wearing a crown.

Naid's voice died for the second time that night, and he could only stare at the Prince who was waltzing with him. Finally he squeaked, "Your highness?"

The prince grinned. "Lady Naidine?"

Shock loosened Naid's tongue and he replied "You know my name?"

"I asked around," the prince replied with an easy grin. "It was quite refreshing to find a young lady who wasn't throwing herself at me; it makes for a nice change."

Trusting that the magic of the night would see him through, Naid dared to ask, "Isn't that somewhat the point of tonight? One last chance to be chased after by pretty ladies before choosing one forever?"

Thankfully, instead of chastising him for impudence, the prince burst out laughing. "That is one way of looking at it, I suppose. Which makes it all the more interesting that you are apparently not interested."

Naid scrambled for an appropriate answer that would not get Pellon into trouble for bringing a peasant. "I'm afraid that you are a bit out of my league, your highness. I am only here as a favor to a friend, to keep him from having to dance with his brother."

Once again the prince laughed brightly. "That does sound like the kind of line that Pellon would use to lure a young lady into his coach."

Naid blushed, but did not respond. It appeared that the prince already knew too much about how he had come to find himself at the ball.

"You know, I quite think that this dance will be the highlight of my evening," the prince said offhandedly, spinning Naid closer to the edge of the dance floor

Naid tried to hid his alarm, but before he could think of a polite way to end the dance, the prince had lead them right out into the garden. Before he knew what was happening, Naid felt warm lips on his own, and he realized that he was being kissed by the royal prince.

The prince wrapped his arms around Naid's waist, pulling their bodies closer together. His shock faded and Naid began to enjoy his first kiss, but against his will, his body began to react to the sensations and Naid realized that he had made a fatal mistake.

Pulling away in horror, Naid ducked his face and raced along the garden path. With their bodies so close together, he prince was sure to have realized that he was a boy, and soon everyone at the ball would know as well. Pellon might get in trouble for bringing him and...

Oh! How would his father react? No one would buy clothes from a man whose son liked to wear dresses! His family would be the laughingstock of the kingdom! Naid reached the edge of the gardens and ran past the waiting carriages, stumbling when his heels caught on the cobblestones.

Pulling them off and carrying them in one hand, he raced down the sweeping lane towards the town. Tears of shame blurred his vision, but all Naid could think of was getting back to the shop. Perhaps he could change quickly, hide the dress somewhere, and climb into bed before anyone arrived. Then he could pretend not to know what they were talking about, and to insist that someone must have snuck into the shop after he had cleaned it.

Maybe, just maybe, that would work.

Naid reached the shop gasping for breath, and found no waiting carriage or angry mob. He dashed inside and locked the door behind him. Leaving the lamps unlit, he quickly stripped out of his now ruined finery and slipped back into his pants and tunic. Quietly, he ran up the stairs to his apartment and shoved the dresses into the oven. He'd burn them in the morning, when the smoke would not be suspicious.

Once he reached his own room, still breathing heavily, Naid hurried to his wash basin and scrubbed furiously at the make-up on his face. Once he was sure it was gone, he quickly stripped again, pulled his nightshirt over his head, and scrambled beneath his covers.

Finally feeling slightly safe, Naid felt his adrenaline-fueled shakes begin to ease, and as he waited for the pounding on his door, he slipped into an uneasy doze.

nM^Mn

When Naid woke the next morning, he was still in his own room. He peeked out the window and saw no guards or knights standing watch. He began to hope that the events of the past night had all been some strange dream, until he went into the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. There, sticking out of the oven door, was a small slip of rust-colored ribbon.

It had all happened.

Naid quickly opened the oven door and gathered his dress. Making sure not to drop anything, he took the clothes back to his room and placed them on his bed. He really should burn them, really should destroy any evidence that he had been at the palace at all, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Until the end, last night had been the best moment of his life, and Naid couldn't completely bring himself to refute it. He wanted some piece of that night to keep, something to remember it by. He wanted some piece of Naidine to look at when he wanted to recall the better parts of the night.

With another quick look out of the window, Naid gathered up the clothes, tucked them into a sack, and stuffed them into the bottom drawer of his chest.

Feeling much better, he returned to the kitchen and set about making breakfast.

Naid spent the morning working down in the tailor shop as usual, doing his best to interact with the customers as normally as possible, and not to twitch every time the door bells chimed.

By the afternoon, he was rushing happily from customer to customer, and the events of the night before were again beginning to seem like only a dream. He was measuring a young lady for a summer dress when the bells rang.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," he called.

"Thank you; I'll wait," the new guest replied.

Naid froze, hoping that his ears were deceiving him. Unfortunately, the young lady he was working on looked over his shoulder and sank into a deep curtsey. "Your highness," she whispered, looking ecstatic.

Naid realized that she thought the prince was there for her, and perhaps he was. How arrogant of Naid to think that the royal prince would come after him personally!

Doing his best to hide his face, Naid spun around and bowed deeply. "Your highness," he murmured, trying uselessly to deepen his voice.

"Lady Marisole, I hate to cut your appointment short…" the prince began, and Naid could see her straitening in his peripheral vision

"I understand, your highness," she simpered.

"Thank you. Because I'm afraid that I really must have an urgent word with your tailor," he concluded.

Naid sensed the girl slump in disappointment, but that knowledge was secondary to the blood roaring in his ears.

"Would you excuse us, please?" the prince asked shortly.

Lady Marisole quickly stalked past them and out the door, but even when he heard the bells jingle and then the lock turn, Naid couldn't bring himself to look up.

"Please, stop bowing. You're making my back hurt," the prince spoke in the same teasing tone of voice that he had used the night before.

Naid slowly straitened his back, but kept his head down.

The prince sighed and Naid heard him drag the chair by the counter across the floor. Daring to peek through his bangs, Naid saw the prince slump into the high-backed chair and he quickly ducked again.

"It took me hours to convince Pellon to give you up, you know. He didn't want to get the shopkeeper's girl in trouble for going to a noble's event." The prince's tone was still light. "I finally had to tell him the truth before he would tell me where he found you."

Naid winced. The prince had told everyone about his strangeness. His family really would be a laughingstock.

The prince continued. "I suppose it is a mark of the loyalty of my friends that my predicament doesn't seem to have been leaked to ears outside of my court."

Confused, Naid almost glanced up, but he refrained just in time.

With a sigh, the other man continued. "Princes have to marry eligible young women and produce heirs," he said dryly. "Everyone knows this. And since I have not shown interest in any of the eligible young ladies that my father has paraded before me, he set up last night's ridiculous ball in an attempt to force me to pick and be done with it."

Naid wanted to ease his neck, but he didn't dare look up, not while the prince was speaking to him kindly and not hauling him before the magistrate.

"He refuses to believe what I have told him; what only a few of my friends know. If I had my way - if I was not a prince bound to do my duty to my country - I would chose to settle down with an eligible young lord, rather than a lady."

For the second time in a few minutes, Naid felt the blood bounding in his veins. His face flushed and he dared to look up through his bangs again. The prince was staring right at him and caught his gaze.

"You're even more beautiful as a boy than as a girl," he said softly.

Naid felt his mouth drop open and his eyes bulged; surely he had misheard.

"I can make my father accept a peasant who appears to be a female far easier than I can make him accept a male of the peerage," the prince continued seriously. "And you are beautiful. Please, be Naid for me and Naidine for my father. Marry me?"

Before Naid could comprehend what was happening, the royal prince had slid out of the chair and was down on one knee before him. "Please, _Naid,_ be my prince and princess, and make me the happiest man in the kingdom?"

Still afraid to wake from a dream, Naid nodded, and he suddenly felt warm arms wrapping around him, and warm lips again pressed against his own.

Naid wanted to protest that he was a boy and a peasant, that he could not act like a princess, but the lure of being with someone who wanted both sides of him was too strong. Deciding that he didn't want this dream to end, Naid wrapped his own arms around broad shoulders and returned the kiss enthusiastically.

And when he opened his eyes, the dream had not ended. More than that, the dream never ended, and Naid and his prince lived happily ever after.


End file.
